Cheap Wine
by public static void
Summary: Draco counted to ten. He really, really shouldn't curse people.


For the third time in the last two minutes, Draco cursed. He ran down the Alley, trying to find an open shop that sold cheap wine of the muggle kind, knowing fully well that he was doomed. He cursed again as a strong burst of wind made him carefully combed hair stick in every direction, reminding him of Potter during their schooldays.

"Fucking Potter," he whispered, almost out of breath.

If it wasn't for Harry Potter and the bloody Ministry party he would be going home to Astoria that night, but instead he got caught in the middle of a badly planned party and Potter's own lack of organization. It was too bad that he owed Potter at least three lives for helping him during the aftermath of the war.

Draco stopped when he was by the Leaky Cauldron. He didn't want to go into muggle London. The muggles were, if he could admit it to himself, a scary bunch of people who had no manners -for the most part- and who enjoyed violence in a way Aunt Bellatrix would have found fun.

But he promised Potter he would get the wine, and he was damned if he dared to get him the good kind. Potter deserved the cheapest, most tasteless alcoholic beverages to make him look like the _nouveau riche_ he was.

"I can do it," he muttered to himself and walked into the bar, and then into muggle London.

The streets were normal. The people looked normal. And still Draco felt a shiver; a single mistake could endanger him. He knew of the climbing plants that helped muggles communicate with each other and send their kind of moving photographs to anyone in a single moment, and he didn't want to get caught.

He checked his clock and saw he was fifteen minutes late, which meant he had at least another twenty or thirty minutes before the people at Potter's party noticed the lack of alcohol. He would get there in fifteen minutes if he could.

But first he had to find a shop, and for that, he needed to walk around the city. Draco looked around; some cars were passing by, and at least three different groups of laughing muggles walked past him before he finally decided to be brave and go find a store.

He stuck to the nearest streets, not wanting to get lost and having to risk exposing himself by using magic to orientate himself, or to Apparate. Astoria told him about the wizard who was caught by the muggle plants in the middle of an Apparition, and there were a few recently created groups in the Ministry that had to be created to control the exposition to the muggle world.

"Finally!"

He saw an open store nearby with a flashing neon sign that read Liquor. Draco ran to it, and slowed only when he reached the door and pushed to get in.

The interior was brightly lit and his eyes watered a little after being in the dark streets. He could see many of the strange beverages muggles liked, but most of them were alcohol-free. After looking around for a minute and getting confused as to why would people buy pickle ships, he went up to the guy with the paying machine (why didn't he take Muggle Studies at Hogwarts?) and saw the stupid-looking bottles of cheap wine behind the counter.

"Can I have them all?" Draco asked, pointing in the general direction of the bottles, relaxing at the thought of finally getting the needed items. His hand went to his new dragonskin wallet, already wanting to finish the transaction when he saw the guy shaking his head.

"I need to see an ID."

Draco pursed his lips and breathed in. He counted to ten and looked to the sides. He shouldn't do it. He would only add more blackmail to his file if someone saw him, and if the muggle cameras worked he might get caught.

Potter's voice spoke inside his head, the words _Please be there, Draco. And get the wine!_ crossed his mind three times before he put the wallet inside his pocket again and got a hold of his wand, keeping it covered.

The eyes of the guy went to the back of his head and came back in a second, and he began to get the twenty bottles in display into a bag; Draco nonverbally charmed the paper bags to be more resistant to the weight of the bottles and then charmed the bottles to be unbreakable. When the guy was finished, Draco left him a few notes, not even caring when the guy's eyes widened and he tried to stop Draco.

He ran back to the Leaky Cauldron and as soon as he was in familiar territory, he Apparated to Potter's house.

There was no noise, and a smirk came to his lips. Potter was so boring that his party wasn't even started yet. Or maybe Granger was giving one of her long speeches. He almost laughed when he remembered her drunken speech at Longbottom's birthday party last month, until he noticed Potter's party wasn't quiet because there was no party at all.

Draco got into the house without knocking, and he was surprised to see Potter sleeping on his couch with his feet tucked under a blanket. He looked peaceful, and Draco fought the will to wake him up and yell at him for not telling him the party was cancelled.

"Potter!" he said and let the bags drop to the floor, not caring if the broke because he was confident in his spellwork. "Where's the party? I got your twenty bottles of cheap wine and come here to find you sleeping!"

Potter opened one eye and groaned, putting a small pillow over his head.

Draco heard him mumble something and took out his wand to send the pillow to the other side of the room.

"Fuck off, Draco!" Potter called and turned around to bury his face in the couch. "I said Saturday, Draco. Not Friday. Now go away and leave me alone."

Draco pursed his lips. He breathed in and out. He counted to ten and looked to the sides. He shouldn't do it. He really, really shouldn't curse Harry Potter.


End file.
